


Live Another Day

by Zebra (DQueenie13)



Series: Sprouting the Seeds of Redemption [2]
Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Mild Spoilers, The Eternals are mentioned but aren't seen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:49:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23335663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DQueenie13/pseuds/Zebra
Summary: "This is destiny, and nothing more."Seox's visit to Stardust Town doesn't go unnoticed by the Magasin Family, and certainly does not slip past Nehan.
Series: Sprouting the Seeds of Redemption [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678195
Kudos: 17





	Live Another Day

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after _Bzzt! Amped Up Summer_ and Seox's FLB Gauntlet, so mild spoilers for both will be present.

Nehan leaned against the doorframe to the medical ward in the Magasin’s base, gazing disinterestedly at the mafiosi undergoing treatment. About a dozen men were stretched out on beds, moaning and groaning in pain. _“It looks like the Eternals are having some kind of internal struggle—Stardust Town’s wide open!”_ , they said.

Yeah, right. They didn’t even manage to capture a _vacant_ Stardust Town last summer. Who was it—“Seofon” of the Eternals? He wasn’t even on the island; he just left some sword-wielding avatars, and those alone kept them at bay. Yet these fools thought that a little squabble between Eternals meant the town was vulnerable.

One of the twins had left the island a few days earlier after receiving some kind of missive. If Feower had left, perhaps there would have been a mite of validity to these grunts’ line of thinking: Tien wasn’t nearly as aggressive as her twin brother was. (Not that she _didn’t_ have blood on her hands, though.) But no, it was Tien that left and Feower who stayed. That they returned to base with their lives and (most of) their limbs intact was a miracle in itself. That said…

Nehan pushed himself off the doorframe and approached one of the injured men who was in the middle of getting emergency stitches. Although Nehan specialized in pharmaceuticals, not medical care, he saw his fair share of injuries. Glancing at the gouges in the man’s body, an unsettling sensation of _familiarity_ ran through his mind. They weren’t Feower’s modus operandi, much less inflicted by daggers. No, these were caused by—

“Argh…” Another man propped himself on one arm, wincing as he placed his other hand above his stomach wound, now stitched up and bandaged. “That ‘Seox’ of the Eternals beat fuckin’ _Feower_. He left right after, so we thought the coast was clear, but… Turns out he was just flushing us out in that brat’s place.”

“Seox?”

The name was similar to _that_ boy’s, but it had to be a coincidence, right? It was just the first syllable that sounded alike. There couldn’t possibly be anything more to it. If he made an alias for himself, it was going to be something far more obscure, wouldn’t it? No, there was no way _he_ could be so obvious… After all, _he_ was…

His hands, crossed over his body, clenched against his arms as he bit his lower lip. Unobservant of Nehan’s change in expression, the man continued. “Never thought I’d see a man fast enough to rival those twins. I mean, yeah, it _was_ another Eternal, but still… He’s probably only a bit older than those brats. They’re all monsters!”

“What kind of weapon did he use?” Nehan was acutely aware of the agitation in his voice, but he couldn’t help himself. He _had_ to know whether his suspicions were correct—even if he wasn’t sure which answer he’d prefer.

“Huh?” The man noticed his expression now; he wasn’t completely sure _what_ it conveyed, but it must have been frightening; the other man started tripping over his words in an eagerness to reply. “He had—it was—they were three claws. I mean, two claws on each hand, but—”

Without waiting for him to finish, Nehan turned and started towards the door. “That’s enough. I understand.”

“Oh! Uh, I got a glimpse of that guy under his hood. His hair color was something like yours?”

“…Figures.” Nehan continued out the door before pausing just outside the entryway. “And don’t worry, I’m not angry.”

_At you, that is._

Nehan locked the door to his private chambers and paced the floor, absorbing the information he gleaned. “Seox” was without a doubt a member of the Karm Clan—and a very talented one, at that, to become one of the Eternals. And as far as he knew, the only survivors of the massacre in “Seox’s” apparent age bracket were himself, and _him_. All the evidence lined up to a single conclusion.

“Heh… heh heh… Hahahahaha!”

To think that _this_ would be how they crossed paths again! The very mafia family he was sold to was now embroiled in conflict with two of the Eternals that _he_ had become part of. It was nothing short of fate! But…

_What’s this… emptiness?_

Nehan gnawed on his lower lip, drumming his fingers against his arms. After many long years, he finally had a lead on the whereabouts of his family’s most hated murderer, the one who’d bathed their beloved homeland in their blood. After all these years… after all these years! And yet!

His disquieting apathy towards this revelation frustrated him far more than _his_ existence. The latter was only natural. How could a prodigy die so easily when even he, weak and delicate from birth as he was, managed to cling to life? If there was one who deserve to live based on skill, it was _him_. Nevertheless… _He_ was the one who stole the lives of his family, and all those in the clan!

_So why! Why don’t I feel anything **more** about this!_

The truth was, he already knew why. In the years since the massacre, he found himself with plenty of time to think about the events leading up to it. The way _he_ was ostracized, forbidden from contact with the outside world while being forced to train relentlessly. A natural-born genius deemed as the clan’s redemption surely had senses far sharper than most… which meant that ingesting Trancensia, a drug that sharpens the user’s senses to the point of sensory overload, would have induced a reaction never seen before.

And indeed, most of the clan never lived through that reaction. Which begged the question: Why did the clan elders agree to let _him_ undergo the coming-of-age rite to begin with? Nobody had ever taken the test at such a tender age—and by the clan’s rules, nobody _should_ have. So then why did they do it, knowing exactly what it entailed? Knowing the risks?

“That, too, was the whim of fate…” Nehan murmured under his breath, almost as if attempting to convince himself.

If _he_ was guilty of murdering everyone, then logic entailed that the clan elders were no less responsible for the tragedy and were no less murderers themselves. Of course, accusing a clan of assassins of being murderers was laughable in itself.

_Perhaps this is simply the result of the karma we’ve accrued over hundreds of years of assassinations. Perhaps it was what we deserved._

Nehan’s fingers dug into his arms. _We._ Of all the clan members to survive the massacre, he did, despite having no ounce of talent in the clan’s prided martial arts. After escaping the island, he endured so, _so_ much—his hand wandered downwards to trace over old scars on the side of his torso—and gave up every last scrap of his pride if it meant he’d live another day. To live long enough to get his vengeance on _him_.

Indeed, fate deigned to grant his wish… But at what cost? A scarred, used, and abused body (for a sliver of a second, he remembered what the boss of the slavers that captured him said: _Don’t rough up that pretty face of his; we can fetch a better price for it_ , and his body still tensed up even after all these years). A broken and battered pride that had abandoned any and all sense of dignity towards his dead clan.

To think that his impeccable memory and training in drug development would be used to create Serenity Heaven, now easily the most addictive, lucrative, and noxious drug in the black market. It was first spread around the slums and from there, it worked its way into Stardust Town. In the eyes of the Magasin, the disorganized slum kids were convenient, unwitting test subjects. The Magasin didn’t have to personally deal with the drug’s side effects, and by getting kids hooked on it, they could leech money off addicts and weaken Stardust Town from the inside. Of course, Feower and Tien quickly wizened up to it, but by then, the Magasin were well aware of its efficacy.

Carefully manipulating the spread of the drug and its supply in the black market, they weakened rival families and reinforced their strength in Phantagrande’s underground network. But, as expected with such a potent drug, it had by now reached the ears of the Crew of Enforcers. Rumors of investigations were being whispered among the Magasin upper brass as of late. When the boss consulted Nehan’s opinion, he’d shrugged and said it was only natural. It wasn’t the answer the boss _wanted_ , but his preemptive measures to control information about the drug were favorable enough to be let go without punishment. Based on the screams and cries of pain from the torture chamber a few hours later, the boss probably let off steam on whichever rookie crossed his path.

_Well, that’s only natural of him…_ Nehan rubbed his shoulders, remembering the countless hours he’d spent in that very chamber in the next few months after he was sold to the Magasin. Usually it was for petty reasons: he didn’t look at someone the right way, or the men had nothing better to do. Slaves quickly learned that there was no point in questioning _why_ —it happened because it did, and the best one could do was accept it for what it was.

It was the same reason why Nehan survived his clan’s massacre, a crash landing when he fled the island on a skyskimmer used for missions, and all he’d suffered through up until now. It was destiny’s way of bringing the retribution he so longed for…

Or was it just using him as a tool so _he_ could rise to even greater heights? After all, _he_ survived all these years on his own and reached the level of the Eternals. _He_ must have continued growing even stronger, while he was holed away researching plants. At this rate, there was no way they could ever stand on equal ground. But even so…

The vivid sensation of his sister’s blood soaking into his clothes as her corpse crushed his body surfaced in his mind. Part of him wished he’d chosen to suffocate underneath her—it would have spared him not only the fate that awaited him off the island, but also the sight of her back carved into ribbons of flesh and her spinal cord ripped into segments strewn across the forest floor. He never even got to see his parents one last time before they left to witness the ceremony; of all the days he had to sleep in, _that_ was the day he did. Perhaps that was for the best. The look of horrors untold on his sister’s face when she barged into the house and dragged him away told him enough about their fate.

The hatred, regret, and terror he constantly felt ever since that fateful day pressed onto his chest, weighing down heavier and heavier. It wasn’t until a pang of light-headedness hit him that he realized he was gasping for air. Gripping the bedpost for support, he sank to the floor as he steadied his breathing. He leaned against the side of his bed for a few moments until he felt well enough to pull open one of the drawers to his nightstand. Without looking, he pulled out a bottle of pills with practiced accuracy and popped it open. He lightly tapped it until he felt a single pill drop into his palm.

The temptation to be done with everything gnawed at him once again, and he eyed the other pills in the bottle, the ones that were there _just in case_. But the bitter allure of knowing _his_ whereabouts and having a chance of sweet, sweet revenge refused to acquiesce its tight grip on him.

“Heh… heh heh… This is destiny, and nothing more.” Nehan’s hollow laugh matched the emptiness of his words, spoken as though they were a security blanket that kept him sane. He dropped the pill back into the bottle and shut the lid, but instead of placing it back into the drawer, slipped it next to a bundle of other vials and bottles in a bag on his chair.

Drugs for treating the side effects of Serenity Heaven. Of course, he’d developed them in secret—not like anyone ever questioned his research, though, knowing that he was too important, too valuable to the boss. (Several million rupies were spent to acquire him thanks to his lineage. Perhaps they would have spent more wisely if they knew he was the runt of his generation.)

As it so happened, he was leaving the island for a while to collect plant samples from a remote, abandoned island. En route, the most convenient place to refuel and restock on supplies would be the Crew of Enforcers’ base on Amalthea Island. According to the boss, few people would trace him back to the Magasin, so there was little risk in him taking advantage of their resources. That didn’t account for the possibility he’d leak information to the Enforcers himself, but if the boss hadn’t thought of that, then it was simply destiny saying it was meant to be.

Nehan hoisted the bag onto his shoulder and surveyed his room for what could possibly be the last time. To his satisfaction, no sense of wistfulness or tinge of regret crept into his mind. This place wasn’t his home; it never would be. Even if his revenge against _him_ failed, at the very least, he could hasten the Magasin’s well-deserved demise.

After Nehan closed the latch to the skyskimmer, he rummaged through his bag. Withdrawing a mask depicting a grotesque face with horns, he slipped it over his face. This mask had once been his father’s, used for theatrical performances conducted among clan members, and he’d held onto it ever since that fateful day. Its visage represented a vengeful woman who transformed into a demon out of jealousy.

_It’s quite fitting for someone who’s only alive because of his sister’s sacrifice, isn’t it?_ Nehan chuckled slightly in self-derision. He placed his hands on the ship’s controls. _This is all part of fate. Destiny alone will decide where the road leads._

“Let us see whom fortune favors, Xing!”

**Author's Note:**

> In the Japanese version of Seox and Nehan's battle, Nehan says that his endurance and sensitivity to pain were the worst in the clan. It's implied in the English version by his phasing and expression, but downplayed. (For the curious, I transcribed both the [English and Japanese versions of their battle dialogue](https://gbf.wiki/User:Zeze/Story/Seeds_of_Redemption#Chapter_9). I transcribed most of the other battles as well—missing the Japanese transcription of the Ch.6-4 battle thanks to running out of time—but from what I can tell, only Nehan and Seox's fight had major translation changes.)


End file.
